


Pinky Promise

by LetsGoBeTheGoodGuys



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22274929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetsGoBeTheGoodGuys/pseuds/LetsGoBeTheGoodGuys
Summary: An original short story I wrote for school in 2019. A tale of siblings, shared memories, and promises.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 2





	Pinky Promise

Brennan drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel of his car to the tune of “Eye of the Tiger” as it blasted through the speakers. He took the opportunity to glance at his sister in the passenger seat. He had been surprised when Mallory called him on her birthday. He had been planning to send her an E-card like he had the past few years.

“Do you remember your promise?” Mallory’s voice sounded a little different over the phone, but hearing it still made Brennan smile. It had been awhile since they had last talked.

“Um… You’re gonna have to be more specific,” he replied.

“The Catskills. You, me, camping… Ringing any bells? You promised we would go.”

“Really? We were just kids. Isn’t there a statute of limitations on that kind of thing?”

“Not on a pinky promise,” she said, voice solemn.

Brennan pushed a hand through his hair. There was really no reason for him not to go. He lived so nearby the Catskills now. Anyway, he had never been great at saying ‘no’ to Mallory. “Alright,” he said after a moment. “But only because it’s your birthday.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

* * *

Mallory looked a lot like she had when they were kids. Her hair was dyed blonde now. And the scar on her cheek had almost faded completely. He wouldn’t have even seen it if he didn’t already know to look for it. She had one foot up on the seat, tapping out the rhythm of the song against the seat with her sneaker. Brennan had always thought she had the biggest eyes of anyone he had ever met. Right now, she was looking around at the landscape as the car sped down the tree-lined road. Brennan turned down the music.

“So, uh,” Brennan began, “why now?”

“Huh?” Mallory turned to look at her brother.

“Why cash in on this promise now, y’know? It’s been a lot of years.”

Mallory smiled. “I’ve just been thinking a lot, I guess. Thinking about when we were kids.”

Brennan flinched. “I try not think about when we were kids.”

He glanced over long enough to see Mallory nodding. Of course she understood.

“Actually,” Brennan continued, “sometimes I wish I could forget everything.”

“Everything?” Mallory asked. Her tone was cautious.

“Yeah,” Brennan said. “Clean slate. Wipe out all the crap and start over completely. No memories. Nothing.”

Mallory sighed. “I get it,” she said. “We went through a lot.”

They rode in silence for a while then. “Another One Bites the Dust” had started playing softly through the speakers when Mallory spoke again.

“Did you bring the book?” she asked.

Brennan smiled. “Yeah, I brought it. It’s in my backpack.”

Mallory lunged into the backseat and dragged his backpack forward, immediately unzipping it.

“Geez,” Brennan said. “Don’t spill everything.”

But Mallory already had her hands on what she wanted. A fraying, damaged copy of _My Side of the Mountain_. The only thing Brennan still had from their childhood. The hardcover was stained and torn, the pages yellowed and creased.

“Wow,” Mallory said. “We really did a number on this thing, huh?”

Brennan nodded but Mallory was already flipping through the pages of the book.

“Can you believe this?” she said. “We’re actually going camping in the Catskills. Just like in the book.”

Brennan scoffed. “Except we’re not living in a tree, Mal. And I brought a lighter. We’ll have a bit of an advantage over the kid in the book.”

“Maybe we should leave all of our gear in your car. We can really rough it and have the authentic _My Side of the Mountain_ experience that we wanted as kids.”

Brennan knew that he would see Mallory grinning at him if he looked at her. But he refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing his amusement. Instead he just shook his head.

It felt like a cruel joke that all of Brennan’s best memories – the ones of him and Mal – were the foggiest. Every horrible moment from his childhood had been seared into his brain in vivid detail. He could still feel every blow from his father. He could clearly see the furious look in his dad’s eyes when he would look at his children after a night of drinking.

But the night of the pinky promise? It was barely there in the back of Brennan’s mind. Hazy images and vague feelings. It was static hair rubbing on the sheets they hid under. It was a promise whispered between giggles. It was chubby fingers, linked together.

“Someday,” Brennan had promised his sister. “We’ll go to the Catskills. Just the two of us.” He had tapped a finger against the cover of their precious book for emphasis.

And Mallory had remembered that promise all these years. Brennan cleared his throat. “I am glad we’re doing this,” he admitted. This time, he met Mallory’s bright grin with an affectionate smile of his own.

* * *

Brennan wiped sweat from the back of his neck. Mallory and her pinky promises. This was a dumb idea. He looked at his sister. There was sweat glistening on her forehead as well. She grinned at him.

“Breathing pretty hard there, buddy,” she said. “I thought you were in shape.”

“I was in shape in college,” he replied. “I’m not really that guy anymore.”

“Ah, sitting at a desk all day has made you a wuss, huh?”

Brennan chugged the rest of his water bottle and threw the empty container at Mallory.

She laughed as she picked it up. “No littering,” she admonished.

“How far are you expecting us to hike?” Brennan asked. “If we want to read the book, we’d better stop pretty soon. Otherwise, we’ll lose the light.” That was how Mallory had told him this trip would go. They would set up their tent and read their book together before sunset. Brennan had made her agree to just one night. Neither of them really knew anything about camping.

“Fair enough,” she said.

They walked a bit further into the trees until they reached a clearing.

“How about here?” Mallory said. She was breathing heavily.

Brennan immediately dropped his heavy backpack on the ground and plopped himself in the grass against a tree. “Perfect,” he said breathlessly.

“Get up,” Mallory said. “We need to set up the tent.”

“You mean _I_ need to set up the tent,” Brennan said. “You’re terrible at following instructions.”

“To-may-to, to-mah-to,” Mallory replied. She dropped her own backpack to the ground. Brennan watched her roll her shoulders. “Wow, that was hea-” She froze, looking over Brennan’s shoulder.

“What’s the matter with you?” Brennan asked.

“Stand up.”

Brennan started at the unfamiliar voice. He stood quickly and turned around. He saw two men facing him and Mallory. They each held a gun in hand, one leveled at Brennan, one at Mallory. A jolt of fear ran through Brennan. He glanced back at Mallory. She hadn’t moved.

“Hey, guys,” Brennan said. “What’s, uh… what’s going on?”

The two men each had unkept beards, their clothes filthy and torn. One looked to be middle-aged and the other was barely more than a teenager.

The older of the two men spoke. “We just need to borrow your supplies. You don’t mind, do ya?”

Brennan shook his head. But Mallory spoke before Brennan had a chance. “We mind a bit,” she said.

Brennan looked at her with a glare. She shrugged.

The younger man laughed, but the sound seemed more nervous than amused.

“Move back, both of you,” the older man said. “Sit on the ground. We won’t hurt you if we don’t have to.”

Brennan and Mallory obeyed, taking a few steps back without turning around. They both sat. The two men each picked up a backpack.

“We’re gonna need your cell phones,” the older man said. “Can’t have you telling anyone about us until we’re long gone.”

“Screw you,” Mallory said.

“Mal, shut up,” Brennan hissed.

“Just listen to us,” the young man said. “Everything will be okay.” He walked closer to them and held out his hand – the one that wasn’t holding his gun. Brennan quickly handed over his phone. He noticed that the young thief’s hands were shaking. Mallory didn’t move.

“Please don’t make me take it from you,” the man said, stepping closer to Mallory. He slid Brennan’s phone into his pocket and grabbed Mallory’s arm, shaking fingers digging in. She pulled her arm away from him, skin pink where the man had gripped her.

“It’s in my backpack,” she said.

The thief took a few steps back and took her backpack off his shoulders.

The older man stepped closer, pointing his gun back and forth between Mallory and Brennan as the young man dug through Mallory’s backpack.

“Alright, I guess we’re good here,” the young man said as he pulled Mallory’s cellphone out of her backpack. He tucked the phone into his pocket and raised his gun again.

“Let’s go, boy,” the older man said. He lowered his gun and turned to walk away.

The young man kept his gaze trained on the siblings for a couple of moments as he walked backwards away, gun pointed toward the ground. Just as he started to turn around, Mallory stood quickly. The thief turned back towards them immediately at the sound of Mallory’s movement. “Mal —!” Brennan had no time to even reach for his sister before the young man raised his gun and fired.

Mallory screamed in pain, stumbled, then crumpled to the ground. Brennan’s breath hitched. He watched the young thief’s eyes widen in horror as he stared at Mallory. He looked at his gun and then at Brennan, “I didn’t – she surprised me. I didn’t mean to –”

The older man had turned around at the sound of the gunshot. “What did you do?”

The young man continued to stutter out excuses. The older man swore. “We don’t have time for this. We have to go. _Now_.”

The young man caught up to the older man and they hurried off through the trees.

* * *

Brennan shuffled his sneakered feet along the sidewalk, kicking a rock in front of him as he walked home from school. He shifted his backpack on his shoulders. He would have sworn that he could feel the weight of the new book he bought for him and Mallory as it sat tucked among his schoolbooks. Mallory was always home later than Brennan. Brennan had made sure of that. He wanted to be certain his little sister was never alone with their dad who had been out of work for a couple of weeks. Today Brennan knew he would find himself waiting anxiously for Mallory to get home so he could watch her big eyes light up when she saw the book. His selection today had been _Julie of the Wolves._ If they really liked a book, it was placed on the top shelf with _My Side of the Mountain_. Only a handful of books had earned the spot. Brennan hoped this would be one of them.

As Brennan reached the sidewalk in front of their house, he heard the door slam open. Brennan watched as his father stormed out of the house. His dad’s face was a blotchy red, covered in sweat. Brennan recognized the look on his dad’s face. Unconsciously, Brennan held a hand to the still-fresh bruises covering his ribs. As he watched his dad climb into his truck and back out of the driveway in a hurry, a cold panic spread through Brennan. What could have made his dad so angry? No one else was home, unless —

Brennan ran the rest of the way to the house, dropping his backpack just inside the doorway.

“Mallory, are you home?” he called. He saw the light on in the bathroom but the door was closed. He approached the room. “Mallory?” he said, his voice quivering.

The bathroom door opened and Brennan saw his sister holding a washcloth against her cheek. The cloth was soaked through with blood. Brennan felt dizzy.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Mallory said. Her confidence was betrayed by the loud sniffle she let out at the end of the sentence.

“What did he do?” Brennan asked.

“He shoved me,” Mallory said, blinking rapidly. “I hit my face on the corner of the coffee table.”

Brennan glanced behind him. He could see a red stain on the carpet underneath the coffee table. He turned back to his sister.

“Let me see it,” he said.

She pulled the cloth away from her face and Brennan inhaled sharply at the sight. There was a deep gash on her cheek, blood still running from the wound.

Brennan pulled open a drawer and took out a hand towel. “Here, use this.” Mallory took the towel and carefully placed it over the wound on her cheek, dropping the soaked washcloth into the sink. Brennan led her to the armchair in the living room. “Sit here, Mal. I’m gonna call Aunt Tina. I think you might need stitches. She’ll drive us to the hospital.”

“Do you think… Do you think this will be enough?” Mallory asked.

Brennan knew what she meant. Their aunt had been trying to get them out of their dad’s custody for years. Maybe this would finally be the proof she needed that she would be a better caretaker than him. “I’m sure of it,” Brennan said. He had said that before, but this time was different. This time it was Mallory who was hurt. Brennan knew he wouldn’t be able to stand seeing her hurt like this again. This time Aunt Tina had to win.

“I guess this isn’t a great time to ask for a pinky promise on that,” Mallory said, looking down at her red-stained fingers.

Brennan laughed in spite of himself. “You are such a brat,” he said. “Aunt Tina won’t know what to do with you.” As he picked up the phone with a shaking hand, Brennan found himself whispering a prayer that he would never have to see his sister bleeding ever again.

* * *

“No! Mal? Mallory?” Brennan hurried to where his sister had collapsed, stumbling and catching himself on the ground, hands stinging from the impact. He made it to her side and dropped to his knees. He landed on a rock and felt his jeans rip over his right knee. It was probably bleeding, but he didn’t stop to check. “Oh, no. Oh, Mal.” His shaking hands hovered over her body, scared to touch. Her eyes were closed, but he could see her chest rising and falling. She was breathing.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, settling for placing a hand on her shoulder. His eyes moved quickly, his gaze scanning the trees around them. There would be no sign anyone else had been in the clearing at all if Mallory hadn’t been shot. Brennan turned his gaze back to his sister.

“You’re okay, you’re alright,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. “I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay.”

Brennan took in a shuddering breath and then peeled up Mallory’s shirt, exposing her stomach. The fabric stuck to her skin where it was soaked through with blood. As soon as the wound was visible, Brennan saw more blood spill from it. He swore. There was so much blood he couldn’t even see where the bullet had pierced her. He took off his plaid button-up, wadded it up, and pressed it against her wound. He only knew a little about first aid. But he was sure you were supposed to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. He had held rags against gashes on his own stomach many times as a kid. That was the same with bullet wounds, right?

“Mallory, I need you to wake up for me, okay?” Brennan swallowed bile.

Mallory opened her eyes. Her breathing picked up, gasps of pain on each inhale. Her eyes were wide. “Bren?”

“Oh, thank God,” Brennan said. “Take deep breaths, Mal. I need you to calm down.”

Mallory groaned, struggling to take deeper breaths. “He shot me? What the crap?”

“It’s, uh,” Brennan hesitated. “It doesn’t look great. But we’re gonna get you to a hospital, okay? You’ll be alright.”

Mallory turned her head side to side, eyes darting around rapidly. “They took all of our stuff, Bren. How are we gonna call for help?” She started trying to move but the action caused her to let out a scream of pain.

“Stay still,” Brennan said. “You’re gonna make it worse.”

“Worse than bleeding out from a bullet wound?”

Now that Mallory was awake, Brennan could feel the adrenaline leaving him. His vision began to swim, and he blinked a few times.

“You’re not-” He swallowed. “You’re not bleeding out. Look, I’m an expert. We’ll get the blood to stop and then we’ll figure a way out of here.”

Mallory groaned.

“What were you thinking, moving suddenly like that?” Brennan asked her.

“I was thinking he wouldn’t freaking shoot me,” she said.

The woods seemed so quiet. Brennan kept pressure on Mallory’s side for several long minutes. Mallory let out an occasional gasp of pain.

Brennan’s mind was racing. “We can’t stay here,” he said.

“Obviously.”

Brennan checked Mallory’s wound. “I think the bleeding has stopped for now. Do you think you can move?”

“Let’s give it a shot,” she said. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into a sitting position. She groaned.

“Are you okay?” Brennan asked.

“No,” she said. “Help me stand up.”

It was agonizing, but Brennan managed to help her stand. He looped her arm around his shoulders. Her breathing was quick.

“Let’s try walking,” he said gently. They managed to walk for a while, but gradually Mallory held up less and less of her own weight. Brennan had to lower her down. He carefully propped her against a tree, helping to adjust her position when she cried out. There were tear tracks down her cheeks. Brennan sat down next to her. They were both silent, except for the high-pitched sounds of pain that Mallory let out every few breaths.

* * *

_Finally._ The word kept running through Brennan’s mind. _Finally. Finally._

He was getting away from this terrible town. He would no longer have to take an extra two minutes walking to school to avoid walking past the house their father had lived in. The house where their father had left scars all over Brennan’s body, where he had left the nasty scar on Mallory’s cheek. Brennan had three boxes in front of him. One for packing his things to take to college, one for things to donate, and one for trash. Aunt Tina had insisted on the donation box, but Brennan wanted to throw everything out. He was tossing all his clothes, books, and games that had come from his father’s house into the donation box. He refused to keep anything that would remind him of where he had come from. The box of items to bring with him was still empty. He had decided to buy a whole new wardrobe in New York. He knew it would cost him an arm and a leg, but what was he supposed to do with all his savings now that he had won a scholarship for school?

Brennan had already emptied his closet and dresser. All that remained was his bookshelf. He started on the bottom shelf, throwing books into the donation box without a second glance. He worked his way up quickly, shelf by shelf. He reached the top shelf and continued tossing the books into the box behind him. On the very last book, he hesitated. _My Side of the Mountain._ He hadn’t thought about this book since they had moved in with Aunt Tina. The day they moved in, he had made sure to keep the book on the top shelf where it belonged. Holding the book, Brennan could almost smell the mildewed bedroom carpet that he and Mallory had sat on when they read together as kids. The memory of that smell had Brennan clutching his side, feeling the phantom pain of a blow from his father that had left Brennan facedown and crying into that same bedroom carpet. He threw the book into the donation box.

As he began closing the flaps on the box, a different memory filled Brennan’s mind. He could hear Mallory’s giggle when he would read the librarian’s lines from the book in a high-pitched voice. He could see that dimpled grin she gave him every time he pulled their book down from the top shelf. A smile spread over his face and he pulled the flaps of the box open again.

Brennan pulled _My Side of the Mountain_ out of the donation box and set it in the bottom of his college box. He could throw away the rest of his childhood. But not this. He looked up and saw Mallory standing in his bedroom doorway. She wore the same dimpled grin from his memory.

“What the hell, Mallory? How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” she quipped. She looked down at the boxes between them. “You’re not bringing much.”

Brennan shook his head. “I don’t want anything else from…” He hesitated. “Y’know, from here.” He gestured vaguely around his room.

“Yeah,” Mallory said, her gaze lingering on the book sitting alone at the bottom of the cardboard box.

* * *

Brennan picked at the fraying edges of the hole in his pant leg. The silence of the woods was making him anxious. He knew sunset was getting close. “I’m sorry I don’t keep in touch like I should,” he said to Mallory. “I miss you. It’s just that I-”

“Please don’t,” Mallory interrupted.

“What?” Brennan turned back to look at his sister.

“Please don’t apologize.” Mallory shifted and coughed a little, pausing to wince and swallow thickly before continuing. “It makes me feel like I’m gonna die.”

Brennan let out a shaky laugh. “You’re such a brat.”

“What would you do if I wasn’t around to be a pain in the butt?”

Brennan blinked and looked away. “I don’t know.”

“Sorry,” Mallory said. Brennan nodded but he didn’t look back at her. “What do you think the chances are that I actually make it out of here?” she asked.

Brennan’s eyes burned. “Mal,” he said, voice breaking. Mallory didn’t push him to say anything else, she just sighed softly.

Neither of them said anything else for a few moments. Brennan wished they were still moving. Something about sitting still made the situation feel so much more real. He wanted to puke.

“Bren, look,” Mallory said suddenly.

Brennan looked at his sister and then followed her gaze. Tucked behind the trees ahead of them was a barely visible cabin. Brennan felt relief melt through him.

“Well, look at that,” Brennan said. “That must be a ranger’s station. There will be a phone in there that we can use. You were worrying for nothing.”

Mallory rolled her eyes. “Sorry if getting shot put me in a bad mood.”

Mallory’s voice was getting weaker. Brennan knew she was in more pain than she would admit. She had always been like that.

“Do you think you can get that far?”

Mallory looked at the cabin. “Of course I can. What choice do I have, anyway?”

“Fair enough,” Brennan replied. He stood and held out his hand. Mallory took a deep breath and gripped his hand in her own, squeezing hard enough to make Brennan grunt. He put his other hand behind her back and pushed her up. The gasp of pain that Mallory let out made Brennan flinch. He looped her arm around his shoulders like before and started guiding her towards the distant building. She kept her free hand pressed against her wounded side.

* * *

They were standing in the O’Hare airport. They had said goodbye a few minutes ago, but Brennan was struggling to leave. He knew he was going to cut it close to board his plane to New York.

“Congrats on college, by the way,” Mallory said. “I don’t think I’ve actually said that this whole time. I guess I’ve been in shock. I was never quite sure if you were even gonna graduate high school.”

Brennan rolled his eyes. “Please. We’ve always known I’m the smart one. I think Aunt Tina has spoiled you into thinking you’re better than me,” he joked.

Mallory smiled at him, but there was a distant look in her eyes.

“What is it?” Brennan asked.

“You won’t forget about me, will you?”

Brennan blinked. He pulled his sister into a tight hug. “Never,” he said against her hair.

She squeezed him and then stepped back. “Pinky promise?” she asked, holding up her hand.

Brennan linked his pinky with hers. “Pinky promise,” he said.

* * *

It felt like hours had passed by the time they reached the door of the cabin. Mallory’s breathing was coming in high-pitched gasps. She let go of her side long enough to turn the doorknob and push the door open. The siblings stumbled into the cabin. Brennan immediately spotted a cot in the corner and lead Mallory to it, lowering her gently on to the thin mattress.

“Is there a phone?” Mallory asked, eyes tightly shut, face contorted with pain.

Brennan was already scanning the single room. There was the cot, a kitchenette, and a desk. If this was a ranger’s station, it had apparently been abandoned. It looked like no one had been in it for a long time from the layers of dust on every surface and the rust eating away at the metal frame of the cot. There was a phone on the desk. Brennan picked up the handset and put it to his ear. There was no dial tone. He pounded the buttons on the phone, but the line was dead. Brennan swore. He opened every cupboard and drawer in the kitchen and yanked all the drawers out of the desk, throwing them to the floor furiously as each one was completely empty.

Despair settled in Brennan’s gut like a rock. What could he do? He went to the sink and twisted the handle. No water came out of the faucet.

Brennan swallowed the lump in his throat and went to Mallory’s side. Her eyes were closed.

“Mal? Open your eyes for me.”

She did, but her cloudy gaze made her nearly unrecognizable to Brennan.

“No phone, huh?” she whispered.

Brennan shook his head. “Phone’s dead."

“What now?” she asked. Brennan had to lean close to catch the words. “I can’t…”

“I know,” Brennan said. He turned around and paced a couple of steps away, pushing a hand through his hair. A leaf fell from his curls and drifted to the ground. Brennan walked back to Mallory who was still looking at him blearily. He leaned in close.

“Mal,” he said gently. “I think I need to go for help.”

A tear slipped down Mallory’s cheek as she shook her head. “You can’t go out now. It’s gonna be dark soon. It’s too dangerous. You won’t be able to see.”

“I have to try, Mal.”

Mallory closed her eyes for so long that Brennan thought she might have fallen asleep. After a few moments, though, her eyes opened again. She looked defeated.

“I’ll come back,” Brennan said. “You won’t even have time to notice I’m gone. Okay? I’ll come back.”

“Pinky promise?”

Mallory made no move to lift her hand so Brennan brought his hand to hers and linked their pinkies together. “Pinky promise,” he said.

Mallory gave a tiny smile. Brennan smoothed back her hair and planted a kiss on her forehead. He stood with her for another couple of heartbeats until her eyes slipped shut. Then he went out the door into the golden sunset. He was going to save Mallory. He had to.

* * *

It really was pitch black. Mallory was right. There was no way he could find his way to help. He had been headed vaguely towards where he thought the highway was, but he had lost track of which direction he was going a long time ago. He couldn’t stop. Not with Mallory alone, dying. He stumbled on the rough ground, catching himself against a tree. He stood still for a moment, sucking in deep gulps of air. The night was chilly, his lungs burned. He squinted his eyes, peering ahead of him. Was that… a light? Brennan’s heart rate picked up. Maybe he was going to make it, after all.

He started moving forward again quickly. He stopped watching where he was stepping, gaze trained on the light in the distance. He was afraid that if he looked away from it, the light would disappear. He was completely reckless, crashing through the woods, barely moving out of the way of the trees he nearly slammed into. He was getting closer to the light. Closer to help. Closer to saving Mallory.

Brennan felt his foot catch on a root. He stumbled, trying to catch himself on something. He refused to look down as he struggled to keep his feet underneath himself. Until suddenly he was plummeting downwards. With a shock of terror, Brennan realized he must have been on the crest of a hill. He finally tore his gaze away from his goal and looked down as he fell. He hit the ground hard, his breath knocked out of him completely. He was sliding, dirt falling into his eyes. Brennan scrabbled with his hands, desperate to grab something. But he was sliding, then rolling, faster and faster downhill. Brennan let out a yell as he reached the bottom. He heard a _crack_ , felt a sharp pain in his head, and the world went dark.

* * *

Brennan blinked his eyes open. He was reluctant to open them completely. The sunshine was making his head throb.

“Oh, there he is!”

The voice was gruff, unfamiliar. Brennan squinted at the man hovering above him. He was dressed in camo and a filthy baseball cap. “What happened?” Brennan asked.

“Looks like you hit your head on that there rock, son,” the man answered.

Brennan put a hand up to his head. So that’s why it hurt so badly. His fingers touched something tacky on his forehead and he pulled his hand away to look at it. His fingertips were covered in maroon and red. Blood. Some shiny and fresh, some dried. Brennan felt his stomach turn. He groaned.

“Don’t worry, boy,” the man said. “I’ll get you back to town and they’ll get you fixed right up. Head wounds bleed a lot, but you should be alright.”

Brennan nodded. He felt like someone had told him that before. Somehow he knew that head wounds bleed a lot. He sat up slowly. The man offered him a water bottle and Brennan took a few gulps. His throat hurt.

“I’m Billy,” the man said. “Sorry to meet you under these circumstances. What’s your name?”

Brennan blinked. “I-” Suddenly Brennan’s headache seemed worse. His name? “I don’t… I don’t think I know.”

“You don’t know your name? Do you know where you are?”

Brennan looked around. They were in the woods somewhere. He tried to think. He could vaguely remember… driving? He had driven here? But there was no car in sight. “No,” Brennan said, voice shaking. “I don’t know.”

“You’re in the Catskills! Don’t worry, you hit your head hard. It’ll come back to you.”

Brennan felt his stomach roll again and moved just in time to throw up in the grass without getting it on the other man.

Billy silently handed Brennan a handkerchief. Brennan took it and wiped the filth off of his mouth. He took another gulp from the water bottle and then swished some water in his mouth and spit it on the ground beside him.

“You don’t have any gear with you,” Billy said. “Do you know if you were out here alone?”

Brennan sighed. Damn, his head was really pounding. “I assume so. I don’t remember anyone else.”

Billy eyed Brennan, his gaze lingering on Brennan’s shirt. Brennan looked down at himself. His white t-shirt was covered in splotches of dried blood. Brennan lifted his shirt in a panic but his stomach was injury-free except for some faded scars. Was all of that blood from his head?

“Alright,” Billy said after a moment. “Let’s get you back to town. I have a feeling it’s a blessing you don’t remember what happened to you.”

As Brennan struggled to his feet, he wondered if Billy was right. What if he had forgotten something important?


End file.
